After
by ReverseTango
Summary: Asked for prompts, got some! A collection of short one-shots. Chell x Wheatley for now, rating/characters/genres may change as I go.
1. I

Hello! This is (or will be) a very tiny collection of very tiny one-shots. I've been taking some fic requests on tumblr, and these are the results. They'll be Disconnect verse, but not canon to the fic itself unless otherwise stated. First up, a challenge to write something on the non-angsty end of the spectrum. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>At first, Wheatley doesn't think there's anything special about the place. The day is hot and sticky and he's <em>tired <em>andhe doesn't understand what was so _important_ that they had to walk all the way out here when it's just a bunch of _trees_. They've got trees back _home_, did they really need to come all this way just to see _more_?

After a moment, however, he sees they're arranged differently, growing in neat rows, their order still discernible through the overgrowth that's presumably resulted from decades of neglect. Like many strange things in the Outside, it doesn't quite make sense to him.

But Chell seems excited and she jogs to one of the trees, hefting herself up on a branch and disappearing into the greenery, before he can ask why they're here. In an instant, there's no trace of her, save for the leaves that rustle and flutter to the ground in her ascent. He's slower to approach, unsure of what she's doing—is she going to make _him_ climb up there with her? That doesn't seem like a good idea. Looking up, he sees her perched comfortably, her shirt a makeshift basket, full of…something.

"Say apple," she calls down to him, releasing her acquisitions to the ground below, laughing as he tries to shield himself from the deluge of fruit. When he recovers, he sees the tree is full of them-red and shiny-and so are the others. Oh. _Now_ he gets it.

A _thud_ signals bare feet hitting the packed dirt and she offers him one, raising another to her lips and taking a bite, clear juice threatening to spill out from the corners of her mouth. He stares at the fruit in his hands, puzzled, before assaulting it like she's doing. It's harder than it looks, for some reason-his teeth scrape against the peel but don't seem to get anywhere. She's already noticed, and gestures for him to hand it over, knife at the ready. A few flashes of silver and the apple is reduced to something slightly more manageable. She returns it to him piece by piece and smiles.

They waste the afternoon, play tag through the rows of trees and laugh when he trips, nap in the shade. She tries to teach him how to navigate the branches to the treetops but they quit after he takes a spill. He eats so many apples he thinks he might puke and her skin against his as they lay in the cool grass is all sticky-sweat but for once he can't bring himself to care.

Things are okay.


	2. II

Number two, courtesy of anon: "How angry can you get, Wheatley? What if he still blamed Chell when he came back?"

* * *

><p>His eyes flutter open and it takes him approximately three seconds to decide he would have rather died of exposure. For one thing, he doesn't know where he is—it's certainly not the endless field where he remembers succumbing to the limitations of his body—if one can even remember losing consciousness. There are trees, for one. Trees and the sound of running water and the feel of wet ground beneath him. His vision focuses and what was once a brown-and-tan smudge against the sky becomes the face of the woman he hoped never to see again.<p>

He shouts and jerks upward, scrabbling against the dirt, every cell in his body screaming at him to _run_, get _away_, this is that awful, homicidal _maniac—_how did she _find_ him, how is she _alive_? She's found him and brought him here (wherever _here_ is), and she's cleaning his dirty wounds with an equally dirty rag. She looks concerned-probably ecstatic to find another human. It seems almost wrong to ruin it for her.

"Don't-don't _touch_ me!" The words spill from his mouth before he can stop them and her eyes widen, confusion and shock shadowed by an undercurrent of recognition. Adrenaline floods his system all at once, allowing him to scramble to his feet and back away, shoulders hunched, teeth bared.

"Don't even _think_ about touching me, you _lunatic, _you—"

Floating in space, he could do nothing but apologize, lament about what he did to her, knowing she probably died in the vacuum. But then, trudging through endless miles of grass, the hot sun burning his new skin, endless regret turns to bitter, seething anger. If she'd been happy for his success, if she'd _listened_ to him, if she'd _tested_ for him like she was supposed to, if she'd _let go _like she was supposed to, if she'd just _died_ like she was supposed to, he wouldn't _be_ here, he wouldn't be _this_, wouldn't be stranded in the harsh, unforgiving, unfamiliar world beyond the only place he's ever known.

And now, faced with her at last, after so long, it's not apologies that escape him. It's unbridled fury, the slow-building rage, the result of his first excruciating days in the Outside that bubble up inside him and boil over. "—you _monster_!"

A flicker of resentment crosses her face, but she reaches for him anyway, lips pulled tight, apparently undeterred by his exclamations. Her hand trembles as her fingertips brush his shoulder, as if she's not entirely sure he's real.

"I said don't _touch_!" Snarling, he flings his arm outward to push her away. It connects and she stumbles back, looking less and less bewildered, and more and more livid. When he swings again, the motion clumsy and unpracticed, she lashes out almost too quickly to see and catches his wrist, locking her eyes to his, furious, studying.

"This is _your_ fault." He shakes with ire, voice low and dangerous. "Get-get a good look. You _did_ this—how-how could you _do_ this?"

And somewhere, hidden behind her furrowed brow and glinting, wild eyes, is hurt, the faintest trace of _you were my friend_. Her knee meets his gut and he doubles over, winded, coughing into the sandy riverbank.

When he recovers, she is gone.


End file.
